


by candlelight, by jewel-light

by WednesdayGilfillian



Series: Chelsea Morning [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Academic Erin, Alternate Universe, Dates That Go Well, F/F, Smut, Tattoo Artist Holtz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Having met under sweetly-ridiculous circumstances, Holtzmann and Erin go on some dates.





	by candlelight, by jewel-light

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had intended for my 'Chelsea Morning' fic to stay a fluffy little oneshot...but then I wanted to write some smut, and what better excuse than these two starting to date?
> 
> Special thanks to gadgetsandgizmos, who encouraged me to carry on writing this AU.
> 
> (Also, I never know whether to rate things M or E, but...yeah, there's definitely sex?)

Holtz is trying to be cool about all this. Really, she is. It’s just that this thing with Erin has started off so sweetly that she’s already quite…invested in it. Ever since Erin walked off leaving Holtz with a stupid grin and her hands full of flowers, she’s kind of been walking on air.

And sure, she’s a grad school drop-out who had to scramble to find a vase for the aforementioned flowers…but still, dating Erin doesn’t seem like the _most_ ludicrous of ideas. Holtz wasn’t the one to do the asking, after all. (And surely you can’t get to know a person via such sweetly ridiculous circumstances and then have nothing come of it. That just…wouldn’t be fair.)

\--

Their first date, Holtz thinks it’s safe to say, was a definite success. She had picked the place and got there early, and Erin had turned up looking like the definition of the perfect brunch date. (She’d been wearing this crimson sweater that was soft and casual and so far from the skirt suits, but still recognisably…Erin.) And they had talked; about their pancakes, and about the city, and, before too long, about Holtz’s background in academia.

Erin’s fork had clattered a little on her plate when Holtz mentioned that she’d started a PhD in experimental particle physics. It was pretty cute, actually, the way Erin was suddenly a little flustered. And Holtz had found that she didn’t mind talking about it – about her first, failed attempt, and her need to take a break. Erin just listened – she didn’t judge.

“Oh, seriously, every other week there’s a new article about stress in academia,” she’d assured Holtz, earnestly. “My friend Abby’s actually curating them all on some blog. And grad school can be the worst. Good on you for looking after yourself. Do you…do you think you’ll go back to it, at some stage?”  
“Maybe? I mean, things have been going pretty well for me at the moment…”  
She had smiled meaningfully, and Erin’s cheeks had gone a little pink.  
“But yeah, I think at some stage I’d like to.”  
“I mean obviously do what works for you…but it just sounds like you’d be such an asset to the university.”  
Holtz didn’t generally consider herself the blushing type, but at that table she’d definitely been close.

And afterwards – when they’d finished their pancakes and their coffee and were starting to feel a little guilty for still being there, taking up space in the café – they’d agreed that they should do it again. _Perhaps dinner._

\--

So now Holtz is waiting – not un-nervously – for six o’clock to hurry up and get here. She’s already dressed, and she _thinks_ her particular brand of dapper should be okay for where they’re going. She actually shined her shoes up for the occasion, and with her shirtsleeves rolled up this way she’s possibly approaching suave.

Eventually she figures she’ll leave a little early and just walk slow. It’s calming in a way, to be part of the city’s bustle, and by the time she arrives at the restaurant she’s feeling pretty good. It’s a little Italian place, kind of cozy, and Holtz has only been seated a few minutes when Erin arrives.

She _has_ seen Erin all dolled up before – leaning tipsily in her doorway in a little black dress. But it turns out that it’s something quite different to see Erin dressed up _for her_. For their date. Holtz swallows hard.

As she approaches the table she shoots Holtz a goofy, nervous smile that’s somehow more attractive than total confidence.

“Hi.”  
“Hi…You look amazing.”  
It’s clichéd, but Holtzmann honestly can’t help it. And Erin glows.  
“Not so bad yourself.”

There’s maybe a few moments’ awkwardness as they settle into their seats – because this _is_ dinner, not brunch, and the stakes are correspondingly higher. The _date_ -ness, the…romance of this whole situation hangs in the air between them.  They cover it by looking down the wine list.

“Um, do you want to order some wine? Don’t worry,” Erin adds quickly, with a self-deprecatory laugh, “I won’t get like I did the other night.”  
“That’s a shame,” Holtz teases. “I’m still waiting on that Elements Song encore.”  
“That is not happening. Definitely not tonight.”  
The implication that there will be other nights is lost on neither of them, and Holtz has to try hard to keep her grin in check.

After that, it’s kind of easy. Holtz is still acutely aware of her own posture, and she _may_ be having a slightly physical reaction to the cut of Erin’s dress…but, hey, she’s only human. They peruse the menu, and Erin – who’s familiar with the restaurant – recommends her favourite dishes.

“And the bolognese here is really good. It’s on an entirely different plane from the stuff Abby and I used to _call_ bolognese, back when we were roommates.”  
Holtz grins. “Adventures in student cooking, eh? I bet your stories have nothing on mine.”  
“Try me.”

To be fair, Erin _does_ have some pretty excellent stories – this Abby person she keeps mentioning sounds like a riot – but Holtzmann wins out in the end. And Erin’s _captivating_ when she laughs like this, regarding Holtz over the rim of her wine glass.

“All I’m saying is, under dire enough circumstances, you can build a pasta machine out of pretty much anything.”  
“ _When_ you’re a genius engineer,” Erin qualifies the statement, still alight with laughter. The compliment is not lost on Holtz, who grins. She’s _trying_ not to let all this go to her head.

But there _is_ the undeniable fact that she’s here, on what is definitely a date, with a woman that until last week she’d only ever admired from afar. And that’s not how things go in Holtz’s life. Not generally. She doesn’t just…get what she wants.

The wine is good, taking the edge off her nerves, and the food is delicious. Around the time they start to consider the possibility of dessert, Holtz realizes she’s in a kind of quandary. Because on one hand, she wants to sit there and watch Erin Gilbert laugh for just as long as possible…but on the other hand, the sooner they get to the goodnights the sooner she might ( _might_ ) have the opportunity to kiss her.  

They stay a little longer, however, and order affogatos. Holtz regales Erin with stories of the most ridiculous things she’s ever been asked to tattoo onto someone’s body. Erin seems charmed, and also relieved that her request was by no means the worst.  
“So, the sense I’m getting is that, by comparison, what I asked for was pretty run-of-the-mill?”  
“Yeah, that was nothing! Well, not _nothing_ , I mean I – it was –”  
She takes a gulp of wine to prevent herself from saying anything stupid, and Erin’s eyes glitter with warm amusement.

Holtz is still swinging between confidence and self-doubt by the time they get up to leave. Because this evening has gone so _well_ , but Erin is Erin – older, and successful, and gorgeous – and she is, well, she’s Holtz. And now they’re into that delicate unspoken dance of _when and how shall we say goodnight?_ Holtz has never felt quite so invested in the answer before.

They decide to share a taxi, and while holding up her end of a light conversation Holtz is silently calculating how far her place is from Erin’s, and whether she could feasibly send the taxi away and walk home from Erin’s front door. It would be worth it, not to have to rush saying goodnight…

In the moment, her nerves push her into bravery, and she pays the driver, saying “I’ll walk from here – it’s just a couple blocks or seven.”  
Erin’s lips curve in a little smile, and though something in her demeanour is suddenly more tightly-wound, Holtz can tell she’s not overstepping. (Thank God.)

“So, this is me.”  
“Nice place. I’ll walk you up?”  
“Okay. Thanks.”  
God, her smile.

Holtz wants to take her hand, but they’re climbing the flight of stairs and it would be awkward. One floor up, Erin pauses outside her door and retrieves her keys from her handbag, turning then to smile at her date. She seems slightly nervous.

“Well…Thank you for tonight, Holtz. I had a lovely time.”  
“Me too,” Holtz replies, honestly and automatically, with the part of her that isn’t desperately trying to get a read on the situation. “We should do it again, maybe.”  
“I’d like that,” is Erin’s smiling response, and Holtz can’t help a small but audible sigh of relief.

She wants to kiss her – she really, really wants to kiss her. But you don’t just throw yourself at a respected member of the scientific community, even if they do look incredibly kissable – and Holtz _really_ doesn’t want to screw this up. So she just raises Erin’s hand to her lips, and this display of gallantry makes the other woman’s cheeks flush. In fact, the way her eyes dart shyly from their joined hands to Holtz’s face and back again, she looks…she looks like maybe she wants to be kissed.

_Oh, to hell with it…_

Her body reacts the second she’s made the decision, thrilling at the prospect as she steps closer. Erin’s eyes fall shut.

Maybe it’s just because she’d been wanting it so badly, but it’s a particularly breathtaking kiss. Erin’s lips are soft and pliant and Holtz immediately wants more. Her pulse and her breathing and the rising ache between her legs leave her in no doubt of the fact. She holds herself in check, however, pulling gently away.

Erin’s _gorgeous_ and blushing, and if Holtz had her way she’d just…

But instead, she tries to think of something to say – and though she’s trying for charming and casual, when she speaks her voice comes out breathy.  
“Oh, I meant to ask – how’s the temporary tattoo holding up?”  
Erin’s eyes dart down and then up again.  
“Maybe you’d better check for yourself. I mean, since you applied it, and everything.”

Holtz hadn’t known that _sexily-nervous_ was a thing. (Or perhaps _nervously-sexy_?) But it’s exactly what Erin Gilbert is now, and it makes the air leave her lungs in a rush. It’s all she can do to smile a crooked smile and breathe a little ‘ha’ of appreciation. And to make herself perfectly clear, she moves in for another kiss.

It’s even better than their first one, and Holtzmann knows she’s very, very lucky. ‘Lucky’ almost doesn’t cover it, when Erin’s so goddamn _inviting_.

Holtz’s breathing is already uneven when Erin pulls away to unlock her door, fumbling a little with the key. Holtzmann follows her inside and glances around at the dimly-lit space. It’s nice – it’s what she would’ve expected. She admires the décor for a few seconds while Erin discards her handbag, and then she’s back, pulling her into another kiss by the lapels of her jacket. It’s a relief to have resumed contact – Holtzmann’s already addicted.

Given the encouragement she’s so far receiving, Holtz turns them round and presses Erin up against the door. This, it seems, was the right thing to do – Erin makes a noise against her mouth. While Holtz kisses her way down the professor’s neck, Erin manages to get out a few breathless words.

“I should say…it’s been a while…since I’ve been with a woman…”  
“I’d be happy to reacquaint you with the basic principles…”

She doesn’t know how she came up with that, with Erin pressed against her. But it works, and Erin half-laughs, half-moans as Holtz runs her hands up the smooth fabric of her dress, her thumb nudging the underside of a breast.

“Erin…this dress…were you _trying_ to kill me?”  
“Oh… Do you like it?”  
She’s not even being coy, she sounds genuinely pleased – and her artlessness makes Holtz want more than ever to show her what it’s like to be really _appreciated_. (She remembers Phil.)  
“You could say that,” she breathes, tracing the enticing neckline with one finger, and enjoying the way Erin shivers. The next time they kiss, it’s Holtzmann who can’t help but moan.

“Bedroom,” Erin insists, pushing Holtz towards the adjoining room. They stumble together in the right direction, neither really willing to let the other go. Somewhere along the way they lose their jackets, and then Holtz finds her shirt being unbuttoned by nimble fingers. In turn, she searches for the zipper at the back of Erin’s dress. It slides down easily, and Holtz is so absorbed by the feel of smooth skin beneath her fingers that she barely notices Erin has got her shirt undone…until hands slide assuredly upward to palm her breasts. The friction’s exquisite, and Holtz makes a somewhat undignified noise against Erin’s mouth. She remembers that Erin _is_ the older and more experienced of the two of them, despite her own inclination to take the lead. She certainly doesn’t mind being waylaid like this…

“Fuck,” is all she can say. “Erin, you’re really – very – fuck.”  
Erin laughs softly and pushes the shirt from her shoulders. (What _is_ it about Erin that has Holtzmann turning on the charm one minute and barely articulate the next?)

Regaining some equilibrium, Holtz remembers that there’s something she has to do, while she’s still capable of conscious thought. Hands at the other woman’s hips, she walks them back a few steps until Erin’s legs meet the bed. She gives Holtz a questioning look as she’s eased down onto her back, her dress only just undone and slipping off one shoulder. Holtzmann smiles mischievously in return and trails a hand teasingly up Erin’s thigh, the motion serving to push her skirt upwards.

“I’m supposed to be checking this tattoo, aren’t I?” Holtz murmurs, by way of explanation. “I _think_ I remember where it is…”  
Erin huffs a nervous laugh, biting her lip as Holtz bends over her. Holtz remembers the last time she had bent over a half-dressed Erin Gilbert… It _had_ been incredible, if slightly surreal, but this is a million times better.

“Ah yes, here it is…”  
She leans closer to inspect the mostly-intact cursive on Erin’s left hip. If she was any less invested in the matter at hand – the matter being tattoo-related flirting – Holtz would already be lavishing attention upon that tantalising skin.  
“It’s holding up surprisingly well,” Holtzmann observes, as though speaking with purely professional interest. “But then, I was working with a perfect canvas.”

Erin makes a sound of flustered amusement, and Holtz looks up to see her blushing and staring at the ceiling in feigned exasperation. It doesn’t escape Holtz’s notice that her chest is heaving slightly. Smiling, Holtz bends to kiss the skin _just_ above the band of her underwear, and stays there, breathing against her - taunting herself with the _almost_ , the _not quite._ Something shifts and tautens in the air between them, and things don’t feel quite so playful anymore.

“ _Holtz_ …”

There’s a note of pleading in her voice, and Holtzmann acquiesces, moving back off her and getting briefly to her feet. There’s a haste now in the way Holtz unfastens her belt, the way Erin shrugs the dress from her shoulders. It’s not long before they’re down to their underwear and settling back onto the bed, with the sense that now it’ll be some time before they leave. Erin’s bed is large and soft and Holtz can’t remember being gladder to be anywhere.

If the laws of Holtzmann’s daily life are suspended – the ones that usually keep her from this level of bliss – perhaps the laws of time are suspended too. The minutes blur and stretch, so that all she knows is _Erin_ ; the scent of her hair and the press of her body and the taste of her skin. And her touch. God, her touch.

Erin is pushing down her underwear, and Holtz appears to have lost her filter.  
“I can’t possibly deserve this,” she groans helplessly, assisting in the removal of undergarments all the same.  
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Erin replies, and God, it’s the sexiest thing.

Holtz should probably be nervous – it’s been a while for her, too – but by this stage she’s too far gone. She just wants…well, she wants _everything_. But mainly she wants Erin to feel beyond-good. So she takes the lead and moves over Erin, pressing into her. Teasing her, tasting her. Listening to her increasingly-ragged breathing.

Really, the noises Erin makes are _exquisite_ , even before Holtz’s hand finds its way between her legs. And then, well, then…

She’s so wet that Holtz has to close her eyes for a moment, and bite her lip hard. Somehow it’s an equalizing moment of vulnerability; Erin wordless and helpless beneath her fingers, Holtzmann both wanting and grateful. She could not have hoped for _half_ of what tonight has given her, so far.

Then the calm breaks, at the lightest stroke of Holtz’s fingers. It’s intoxicating, to have this kind of power – being able to make _this woman_ writhe _like that_. Holtz is pretty sure she could do it all night.

Soon she’s kissing her way down Erin’s stomach, humming anticipation against her skin. Holtz pauses, though, when she feels the other woman tense.

“Can I…?”  
Erin is flushed, and gorgeously discomposed.  
“You don’t have to.”  
“That’s…not what I asked?”  
The redhead huffs a grateful little laugh and lets her head fall back again.  
“Please…”

Holtz is determined, now, to show Erin how this is supposed to be. (Have her past lovers actually left her thinking that this is some kind of _chore_?)

It’s not a chore. It’s more like heaven.

And when Erin comes it’s so _satisfying_ that Holtz almost forgets her own desperate ache. (Almost.) She moves back up Erin’s body, hoping that her smile doesn’t look _too_ smug. She can’t really help it. And Erin doesn’t smile exactly, but the look she gives Holtz makes the younger woman feel suddenly dizzy with pride.

Erin presses a hand to her flushed face.  
“I’m just gonna need a moment…”  
“Oh, babe, there’s no rush,” Holtz breathes – and in case that term of endearment seemed like overstepping she babbles on quickly, “Really, I could just lay here and replay the past several minutes in my mind. They were really good minutes.”  
Erin laughs huskily and props herself up on one elbow. She traces the line of Holtz’s hip with one teasing finger, and Holtz arches into the touch like a cat. The sensual smile Erin gives in response is almost enough to make Holtz whimper.

It doesn’t take Erin long to work exactly what it takes to make Holtzmann whimper. When Erin Gilbert puts her mind – and her mouth – to something, it is going to happen. At _least_ once.

Holtz is a glorious mess by the time Erin is done with her; all sweat and wild curls and laboured breathing. Erin lies beside her, drawing circles on her palm, looking at her so…tenderly. When Holtz can speak, she looks across at her bedmate with a crooked smile.  
“So, I think this date was a good idea…?”  
As though there’s even the slightest doubt. Erin smirks.  
“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

Erin nestles closer, which pleases Holtzmann immensely. She’s always been in favour of snuggles after sex. She breathes in the scent of Erin’s skin, and lets her eyes flutter closed.

\--

Holtz wakes in the morning to find the space beside her vacant. There’s the aroma of good coffee in the air. A few moments later, Erin appears in the doorway, carrying two mugs on a tray. (Of course she has a tray.) And she’s a goddamn vision, freshly-showered and wrapped in a peach-coloured robe.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good morning.”  
“Good morning.”

Holtz shuffles up in the bed, feeling as though she might still be asleep. All this is just too good. Erin’s eyes linger where the sheet just barely covers Holtzmann’s chest, and though she’s subtle about it Holtz still feels a giddy rush of pride.

Erin settles beside her on the bed and hands her a mug of steaming coffee. It’s already a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like it? I'm pretty new to writing smut, so, uh...I'll keep practising... ;)
> 
> In the meantime, find me on tumblr: [wednesdaygilfillian](wednesdaygilfillian.tumblr.com)


End file.
